The Air Tonight
by blue252
Summary: "Here, there is a sky full of stars she can actually see. There's the sound of the waves crashing, the smell of fall and salt air and fireplaces burning. There's a chill in the breeze off the ocean and the feel of sand underneath her feet." A collection of oneshots set in the Hamptons.
1. The Air Tonight

**The Air Tonight**

The wind is warm against her cheeks, it whips around her, sweeps her hair back and she can't keep the smile off her face. She closes her eyes and inhales the salty air. It's late spring, one of those perfect evenings where the sky is clear and the temperature promises the beginning of summer. The slightest traces of champagne from dinner still zip through her veins. It leaves her feeling giddy, excited that he agreed to her spontaneous suggestion to drive up here for the weekend; and she reaches for his hand, laces her fingers over his on the gearshift.

His smile mirrors her own as he brings her hand to his lips, presses a soft kiss against her wrist.

"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?"

She quirks her head at him, watches the way the emotions swirl through his eyes before he returns them to the road. He's been looking at her this way all evening, ever since she walked into the living room wearing the deep green dress she knows is one of his favorites. She's not sure what it is about this night but there's something electric in the air between them. She's never felt so alive under his gaze and she lets the feeling wrap around her, engulf her senses along with the smell of the ocean and the touch of his skin against hers where their hands are still joined.

"You're not so hard on the eyes either, Mr. Castle," she returns. And it's true. She's every bit as entranced by him. He's wearing a crisp blue shirt that makes his eyes seem endless and she can see the faintest traces of a five o clock shadow on his face. She's sure it's related to the fact that she accidently let it slip once how sexy she finds it when they've been working a case and he's too busy to shave. She was embarrassed at the time but now she doesn't regret it one bit because he looks good. Really, _really_ good and though she'd never admit it in a million years, there are moments like these when it still shocks her that she's dating Richard Castle. She's dating this man who captured her mind with his words long before they ever met, long before the case that brought them together, before he refused to leave her alone and gradually weaseled his way into her heart, became her best friend. And it's not only that she's dating him, but it's also that she's probably the happiest, the most content she's been in as long as she can remember. She's not entirely sure how she managed to get here, how _they've_ made it to this point but she's never been more grateful for someone's presence in her life as she is for his.

She stares at the houses they drive by, a mixture of gated mansions and more modest cottages tucked behind trees, giving them their own private ocean views. It's late but every so often they pass one that's still lit and he must be rubbing off on her because she lets her mind wander, imagining what others are doing on this warm summer night, envisioning the possible scenes. Are they dressed up too, warm from the humid breeze, sipping on drinks as they entertain guests? Are they carrying sleeping kids from the couch to their beds after they passed out there, exhausted from a day in the sun? Or are they alone, curled up with a good book, too engrossed in the pages to put it away just yet?

"I was eighteen the first time I came to the Hamptons," he says, interrupting her thoughts. "It was a weekend during the fall of my first semester of college. One of the guys that lived down the hall invited a couple of us. His family owned a house here."

He pauses for a moment, remembering, and she hums, giving him permission to continue. She suddenly wants to know this about him - wants to know what sparked his interest in this place.

"I was so excited, Kate. I'd always wanted to come here. Every now and then Mother would get invited for a weekend with her director friends and return with all these glamorous stories from parties she'd attended, people she'd met, bonfires on the beach and oyster roasts. It all sounded so exciting, like something out of The Great Gatsby, this dream life of the rich and famous. Our money came and went depending on whether she was in between roles. I think she felt bad sometimes that she couldn't give me that life, so she gave me stories instead and I could picture it all so vividly, this magical place I'd built up in my head. And I just remember promising myself after one of those trips she came back from, one day I'd get us here – that one day I'd be able to take my children on vacations to the beach, give them the excitement I used to feel whenever she'd tell me those stories. I wanted to have stories of my own."

Kate relaxes into the seat, enjoying the deep cadence of his voice. His words and the night air seep into her skin, ignite her senses as she listens, imagines a younger Castle, his mind composing scenes long before he knew how to express them on the page. "Was it what you expected?"

"Not exactly. We were typical guys, drank most of the weekend away, got burnt from spending all day out in the water. We got ourselves kicked out of one of the local bars when they realized we had fake IDs so we wound up hanging out at the house mostly after that. But I still think about this one night. Everyone else had passed out but I couldn't sleep. All these words were stuck in my head and I wandered down to the ocean with a pen and a pad of paper and I just wrote and wrote for hours. At first I was worried it'd be too dark but Kate, I wish you could have seen it, the moon was so bright. It was the first time I'd been out of the city in ages – somewhere quiet, somewhere you could actually see the stars, hear yourself think and just breathe. And that was that moment I fell in love with the Hamptons. Not for the glamour or the parties or the money but for the peace it brought me."

"That's beautiful, Castle." She smiles, a hint of teasing in her eyes. "You sure the parties didn't have anything to do with it though?"

"Hey! I'll have you know that I didn't party…_every_ time I came up here."

She laughs, thinks to herself again just how different he is from the man she thought he was when they'd first met. Sometimes she wonders what it would have been like to have met him sooner, whether they'd have still fallen in love, started a life together. She doubts the timing would have been right, but it's when he tells her stories like this that she realizes he's always been this man deep down inside, under the carefully constructed persona and the immaturity of his younger days. She thinks, even then, she would have loved that part of him.

"What about you?" He asks, running his thumb along her hand. "Did your parents ever bring you here?"

She recalls the summer trips she took with her family, the little house they'd rent, and the nights she'd sit out on the wrap around porch for hours just watching the waves, not so much unlike the memory he just shared.

"Yeah they did. We didn't have our own house but every summer since I was eleven they'd rent this cottage right on the ocean. It was my favorite part of summer. My parents were always so busy with cases but for that one week they'd put everything aside, no calls from work, no distractions. Some of my favorite memories of my mom were those trips."

She smiles wistfully before continuing.

"My parents would go for walks every evening. They invited me but I always said no. My dad would wink at my mom and say, 'Come on, Jo, let's leave Katie alone so she can spy on Mr. Franklin.' He was always teasing me, trying to convince me that the house next door was haunted and telling me if I paid close enough attention I just might catch a glimpse of the old owner's ghost."

"Wait! You vacationed next to a haunted house every summer since you were eleven and you didn't _tell_ _me_?!" He interrupts her to turn and stare, his lips turned down into a pout.

"It _wasn't _haunted, Castle. I said he _teased _me about it. Now are you going to let me finish my story or not?" She nudges him playfully, eyes sparkling.

"Will you tell me more about the haunted house?"

She rolls her eyes at him.

"Sorry, sorry. Please continue."

"Thank you. So apparently, Mr. Franklin, the original owner of the house next door to the cottage we rented died in a big storm up here one summer. His wife noticed that their seven-year-old son wasn't in the house when their power went out and she called for him. He went outside to look for him and saw him in the water. He was able to pull his son back in but he drowned when he got caught in a bad rip current. My dad was always messing with me trying to tell me the house was haunted and at night people claimed they'd seen Mr. Franklin's ghost out in the water nearby, especially on nights when it was supposed to storm. Obviously, I never saw anything. I'm pretty sure my dad just wanted to see if he could freak me out. I was a stubbornly logical kid."

"Logical _kid_, Beckett?"

She sees him quirk an eyebrow, a habit she's pretty sure he's picked up from her over the years and something about that warms her heart. She laughs. "Ghosts don't exist. Haven't I proven that to you yet over the _many_ cases we've solved with explanations that were _not_ supernatural?"

He huffs at her. "One day, Beckett. One day I'll convince you."

"Keep dreaming, Castle." She pauses for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "Anyway, my parents would go for walks and I'd camp out on the porch and watch them until they were too small to see. It wasn't that I didn't want to go. It was just something that seemed special and I didn't want to intrude on it. My mom's eyes would light up when my dad grabbed her hand and he would pull her along through the sand with the biggest smile on his face. They looked so happy, Castle. And I remember thinking that they deserved those moments away to themselves, that those moments belonged to them_._"

"I know you miss her, Kate. But I'm so glad you have these memories."

She swallows back the emotion that clogs in her throat at his words. She does miss her mom. She misses her every single day, so badly sometimes that it physically aches; but she also knows how lucky she is to have had nineteen years of moments with her. That the time she spent with her mom isn't something everyone is lucky enough to have. She thinks of Castle and how he relied on stories his mother told him of the Hamptons. Of how he never had family vacations like she did, may never know his father the way she knows hers, and of how he'll never have the same kind of memories from growing up.

That's when she realizes just how badly she wants this with him. She wants a family with him, children, those walks on the beach. Stubbornly logical kids with blue eyes and brown hair and Castle's imagination. They can cook dinners together, sit barefoot under the stars, their feet dangling in the pool while they listen to the sound of the surf. They can do a hundred different things, new things, creating memories and moments of their own. She can't change the past but the future is suddenly clear. It's striking and vivid and hits her with a force so hard that she can hardly contain the excitement that bubbles through her when she imagines it all.

"What are you thinking about?" He's staring at her, watching her curiously, and she remembers she never responded to him, so caught up in her thoughts.

"Us," she responds simply, letting a smile unfurl across her face. She watches as the breeze ruffles his hair. It's disheveled in a way that stirs a lazy arousal in her stomach and she's glad they're not far from his house now.

"I'd be worried if you weren't flashing your bedroom eyes at me right now, Beckett. It's the stubble isn't it? I knew not shaving tonight was a good idea." He waggles his eyebrows at her and she laughs, a deep and throaty thing. He's not that far off base.

"I'm never going to live that one down am I?"

"Nope, never." He puffs his chest out proudly.

She rolls her eyes in amusement, reveling in the affection she feels for him, as they settle back into a comfortable silence; the faintest sounds of the ocean crashing not far off the road create the perfect soundtrack to the end of their drive.

They're not so unlike in their need for solitude, his from all the words that build up in his head and hers from the long days of chasing leads and details of cases that sometimes go unsolved. But there's something about this place that calms her deeply. She looks up at the sky, the scattering of stars that shimmer and shine; and for a moment the world feels infinite, like anything is possible and any problems, any lingering sadness from the past is somehow smaller in comparison.

"I'm glad we're here, Castle."

"Me too, Kate." He squeezes her hand. "Me too."

* * *

_Thoughts?_


	2. Wish You Were Here

AN: This idea came to me not long after writing my last story (which was also set in the Hamptons) and I decided as much as I love to write them there, I may as well make this into a collection. Each chapter will be a separate oneshot set at a different point in time. A million thanks to Jess for always encouraging me and helping me make these into something worth posting! And pjrbcb, this is (finally) my response to your song prompt. So sorry it took this long. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Wish You Were Here**

The water is unusually calm tonight, an endless stretch of dark blue painted against a canopy of stars, and the two almost blend together, fade to black around the edges of the horizon. There's a chill in the air that glances over her with the faintest of touches, just enough to make her shiver and pull the sweater she wears a little tighter around her body. It's late and she should go in, crawl into the warmth of their bed, wrap herself in sheets and blankets and _him. _But she can't.

Not just yet.

She sinks down into the oversized white chair, pulls her knees to her chest and rests her chin against them, staring out across the green expanse of lawn that extends from the Hamptons' house down to meet the sand. He brought them here tonight, loaded their family up in the car and didn't give her a choice. She'd snapped at him when he suggested she go upstairs and take a bath, try to relax; rolled her eyes and stalked off, letting the door to the back porch slam behind her as she made her way across the yard.

She regrets it now. She can still see the injured look on his face and she knows he only wants to help. He's been doing everything right. _Everything_. It's not his fault she's so bad at this. She just needed some air, something to ease the building pressure in her lungs before she suffocated under the weight of it all.

The week has been nothing but a blur, a steady stream of condolences, sympathetic smiles, decisions she wasn't prepared to make, and a numbness that's settled deep into her bones. She remembers the feeling all too well. The hollow pain in her chest, the emptiness, wondering if she'd ever feel whole again.

It's stirred up memories she's spent years trying to shove into the furthest recesses of her mind. How overwhelming it was to be surrounded by so many people, distant relatives, friends of the family she'd never seen before in her life. The seemingly infinite line of those who felt the need to give her a hug, tell her it would all be okay, when she knew even then, it would _never_ be okay, nothing could ever bring back her mom. She can so clearly picture that nineteen-year-old girl who spent an hour in front of the mirror trying to cover up her tearstained cheeks and swollen eyes, just so she could put on a mask of strength. _Just so they couldn't see her cry._

But through all of it, in every single memory wrapped around those awful days, her dad was right there, holding her hand, crying _with _her, finding moments of joy despite the pain. It didn't last forever. They'd handled their grief with different obsessions: justice and revenge, avoidance and depression; but the weeks surrounding her mom's funeral he'd be the only steady comfort in her life.

And despite the years of feeling helpless, of nights consisting of the same tired arguments and drunken slurs, of fighting to make him go to rehab, he'd gotten better. _They'd_ gotten better, repaired their relationship, and he'd been a constant in her life ever since. A constant in their family's life, supportive of her husband long before she'd ever acknowledged how much Castle meant to her, a proud grandfather to their children.

And now he's gone.

She feels her throat tighten as the knowledge truly sinks in for the first time. Her dad is gone. It's the first time she's really stopped all week, took a breath, allowed herself to think about everything. And god, it _hurts. _It's an indescribable ache, one she knows she'll continue to carry with her, a longing for something she'll never have again. Both of her parents are gone now.

_Gone._

The word echoes painfully throughout her mind and she grips the chair, her knuckles turning white. She closes her eyes and tries to breathe evenly, tries to fight through the sudden onset of panic and the nausea that rises in her throat. But it's as though the world is spinning around her, a chaos she can't control, and for a moment she's no longer Beckett. She's no longer the woman she's become. The one she takes pride in being - confident, together, and truly _living_ her life. She's come so far over the years to be a wife, a daughter-in-law, a mother to two children, and a stepmother to Alexis. She has this remarkable family, an entire support system around her but right now, in _this _moment, she's just that nineteen-year-old girl, lost and _alone._

It's been a week. Seven days since she last spoke to him. A conversation about going to a Yankees playoff game. Castle had offered to get them box seats because it was supposed to be cold the night of the game but they'd both said no. There were too many memories, too many other trips to the stadium over the years together and it just wouldn't have been the same without the crowd. The chill of mid-October, the smell of popcorn and hot dogs, the sound of Here Come the Yankees blaring over the loudspeakers. It was all part of the magic, the electricity of the event, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

The tickets still sit untouched on the kitchen counter, placed there by Castle the day before she got the call from her dad's neighbor telling her she needed to come to the hospital. She couldn't bring herself to move them, to erase those final plans, couldn't sever the last connection she would ever have to her father.

She blinks rapidly, grits her teeth to keep from crying. She's supposed to be stronger now. She's supposed to understand that this is how life goes, nothing lasts forever, and no one ever knows how much time is left. But she misses him.

She misses him _so much_ and all she really wants is to cry and scream that it's not fair. It's not fair that she lost her mom so young. It's not fair all the years she missed with her father because of her mother's death and their grief. It's not fair that now that things have finally come together, now that they have a real family again, she's lost him too.

The watch on her wrist glints in the moonlight catching her eye, and she can swear she hears it ticking over the roar of the ocean in the background. It feels like a weight, heavy against her arm and she's drowning. Drowning in memories and moments and times that she'll never have back and she barely registers the tears that stream down her face or the strangled sound that escapes her lips.

She doesn't even realize he's there until his arms are around her, scooping her up from the chair and settling them into the other one together. He doesn't speak –doesn't try to reassure her or distract her or lighten the moment – but he holds her. He secures her against his chest and keeps her close, lets her cry. She's shaking and a mess and he has every right to be upset with her for walking out on him earlier but he's here. His shirt is soaked from her tears and she's clinging to him painfully, branding him with marks but he only continues to run his hands along her back, soothing circles across her skin over and over until she can feel her breathing gradually even out again.

She eventually pulls back so she can see his face, needs to reassure herself that they're okay and she's immediately overwhelmed by the love she finds there. No matter how far they've come, it still amazes her how he can do this. How after so many years of running and fighting and being so completely _alone_, he's the first and only one who can heal her, put her back together when she falls apart, forgive her so easily for being defensive. And once again she regrets how she reacted to him before because she really doesn't want to do this on her own anymore. Things are different now. He's changed her, given her a reason to see the joy in life, to move beyond the darkness. And even though it hurts, _it really hurts_, he somehow makes it easier to breathe through the pain.

"I'm sorry," she says softly.

He looks at her for a moment then shifts them in the chair so he can pull her close again, both of them facing the water this time. He presses a kiss into her hair and reaches for her hand, lacing their fingers together. "I know."

They stay like that for a while. It's quiet, peaceful in the darkness of the night, only the sound of the waves and breeze surrounding them. And even though they aren't speaking, there's intimacy in this moment. He's here and yet, he's still giving her space, time to work out all the things in her head. He's not going to push her but she knows he won't leave her either; and that realization is a comfort.

She can feel herself relaxing further into his arms, the warmth he radiates shelters her from the chill in the air, and she sighs as his thumb paints indiscernible patterns across the top of her hand.

"I don't know how to do this again," she admits finally. "I thought I could handle it this time but part of me feels like I'm still just that scared, nineteen-year-old girl."

"It's okay to be scared, Kate. It's okay to cry, to throw things, whatever you need, even if it's just space. I just want to be there for you. You're not alone in this."

She thinks of how he's been there for her over the years, wonders if he understands all the ways he's saved her, and she knows she could never fully express how much it means.

She squeezes his hand in thanks, a silent affirmation of his words. "There were so many times when I didn't think he was going to make it in those years he was drinking. I'd come over to check on him, find the empty bottles and he'd be passed out in his chair by eight o' clock every evening with a game blaring on the TV. One time I remember I'd forgotten my key. I'd been working night shifts in Vice for two weeks and I thought I'd stop by, see if he wanted to get breakfast but he didn't answer his phone and I pounded on the door for at least ten minutes trying to wake him up. I nearly had a panic attack worrying that he was lying somewhere unconscious by himself; and that's when I finally had to accept that there was a possibility he wouldn't survive this. He'd been to AA and rehab already and promised me he'd quit so many times I lost count."

"But he got better."

She lets out a breath. "He got better. I drove him back to the rehab facility that day, threatened to never speak to him again if he didn't get the help he needed. God, he looked so devastated, Castle. It broke my heart to see him like that, to leave them there. I expected him to argue with me. I thought he'd be angry like all the other times I'd tried to suggest he go back; but not that day. That day he just looked broken, like he'd lost all of his will to fight. And I remember thinking that this was it. If it didn't work this time then, I was going to lose him for good."

She swipes at a tear and pauses for a moment.

"He must have stuck it out that time?"

"Yeah," she sighs. "He did. It was like something had finally gotten through to him. Like maybe he finally realized what this was doing to him, to _us._ He stayed for the full program, committed to it, and continued going to AA for a long time after he got out. It took a while to rebuild our relationship but I could tell he was trying." Her eyes glisten in the moonlight. "I was so proud of him."

"He was proud of you too, Kate. He worried about your work because he's your dad but he was _so _proud of you and the things you've accomplished."

She sniffs. "I just feel like I should be better at this." Her voice cracks and she looks down, worries her bottom lip.

"Better at what, Kate? Losing a parent? Nothing makes that easier. But you are the strongest person I've ever known and nothing you do could ever change that."

Her chest clenches. He always manages to find the right thing to say. His words fill the cracked and empty spaces inside her in ways she's never quite understood. She wants _so badly_ to be capable of handling all of this but she knows he's right – nothing will make it easier, no matter how much she's lost already. She exhales a shaky breath, a little overwhelmed by the array of emotions she feels. "I don't know what I ever did to make you believe in me."

"Well, that's easy." He pauses and she turns to look at him, eyebrows raised as she waits. "You look, really, _really_ good in heels." She chokes out a startled laugh and he grins suggestively.

"My shoes, Castle? That's your explanation for thinking I'm strong?"

"You have a lot of sexy shoes, Beckett. I'm defenseless against the power you wield in them."

"Mmm, you do seem to have a weakness for those red stilettos I wore to Kenzie's recital last month."

He groans and she laughs again, feels lighter, and once again is reminded of the joy he brings to her life. Her mind shifts back to her dad but instead of the darkness that seemed to close in on her before, she finds herself thinking of the last time they'd all been together.

"He was happy wasn't he...my dad? When we had brunch a couple weekends ago."

Castle runs his hands up and down her arms, a gesture that calms her, makes her feel safe. "Yeah, Kate, he was happy. I think you brought light back into his life by living yours. By giving him a family again. I've never seen him happier than when he was teaching Austin how to throw or watching Mackenzie graduate from kindergarten. He loved being a grandfather and he loved seeing _you_ happy."

Kate smiles at the memories, lets them wash over her. They have a beautiful family, have so many memories that don't necessarily erase the pain but they _do _keep her from drowning in it.

"They didn't hear us earlier did they?" She hangs her head at the thought of her children seeing her outburst.

"No. They're fine. I went upstairs after you came out here and found Austin reading to Kenzie. She'd asked him to do the voices like Grandpa for her. I let him finish and then I tucked them in." He gives her shoulder a squeeze. "We have amazing kids, Kate."

"You think they'll be okay?"

"I do."

She nods absentmindedly, wondering what they're supposed to do. Tries to remember what her parents told her after her grandparents passed away. So often she wishes they had some sort of instruction manual for things like this. She hardly feels qualified to be a parent most days but then again, they've made it this far.

"Hey." His voice is low and he angles her so she's facing him again. She looks up, waits for him to continue. "I know it's not going to be easy and it's not just going to go away but we _will_ get through this. Together okay?"

She feels the tears slip down her cheeks but she nods her head, acknowledges him, and presses a kiss to his mouth gently before resting her forehead against his. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They stay outside for another hour exchanging stories, laughing, crying, not saying anything at times, just watching the sky and the steady curl of the waves kissing the sand. And it's not a cure, it doesn't solve everything. She still misses her parents, still wonders what they'll do next. But it's somehow perfect, exactly what she needed.

It's enough.

* * *

_Thoughts?_


	3. As the Night Falls

**As the Night Falls**

The air is changing around them, the heat of the day stolen away by the evening breeze, the humidity all but fading as night approaches. The sun has dipped down toward the horizon behind the house and the last of it casts a glow across the Atlantic.

The sky is a kaleidoscope of warmth - oranges, reds, and pinks, strewn across wisps of clouds. It's picture perfect, a scene that seems as though it was painted there for postcards and magazines. And for a moment she wishes that she was the writer, could somehow capture this image, bottle it up and read it back to herself someday when she's far from here, back in the city where the air is thick and there's a near constant cacophony of sounds overwhelming her.

She's not sure she's ever been as happy as she is here with him. She feels light, open, and most of all, content. She wants to soak it in, close her eyes and get lost in the all of the sensations. The way the salt air kisses her skin, the lingering smell of the pasta they cooked together in his kitchen, the feel of his leg bumping occasionally against hers close underneath the table he set up on his porch so they could eat outside.

It's not always perfect, there are days when she still wants to strangle him for making everything a joke or spitting out one too many far-fetched theories; there are times when he pushes her because she's stubborn and unyielding and really she deserves it - but tonight…tonight it's easy.

"Hey, I'll be right back." He stands from the table, brushes his fingertips across her bare shoulder before reaching to pick up their empty plates.

She leans into his touch, tilts her head up at him. "You want some help?"

"No. Stay. I'm just going to put them in the sink to soak for a little while."

She nods, watches as he makes his way inside, takes a minute to admire the way he looks. She so rarely sees him this relaxed, wearing shorts and a v-neck polo. His skin is tan from the sun today and she has to admit, it looks good. _He_ looks good.

She takes a sip of the drink he made for her, tastes the mixture of sweet mango and the tang of tequila on her tongue. It blazes a trail down her throat, feels electric in her veins and while she doesn't usually drink margaritas she has to admit it fits the setting well. A compliment to the setting sun and the ocean breeze.

Her cheeks are warm, glowing from a day spent alternating between his pool and the waves. And she loves it. It's refreshing to spend a day outside, exactly what she needs to recover from the long months without a vacation, nights of interrupted sleep and days spent poring over files under the fluorescent glow of the precinct lights.

She can't help but smile when she hears the first few bars of Coltrane drift faintly through the open windows of the house. A few seconds pass and suddenly the sound carries across the porch through the outdoor speakers, surrounds her with its familiar melody. She sinks back into her chair, takes another sip of her drink and she can almost feel the last remaining traces of stress slip from her body.

She closes her eyes, allows herself to get lost in the sound of the piano and saxophone, the rhythm of the percussion. She's always loved this music, the way it seems to glide through the air, smooth and polished as it rises and falls around her. She still remembers the first time she heard it, one night when she was eleven years old. She'd woken up thirsty and walked down the hall to get a glass of water only to stop short, finding her parents dancing to _I'm Old Fashioned_ in their living room.

She must have stood there for the entire length of the song, watching them sway, her mother's cheek resting against her father's shoulder. She was just old enough to appreciate the beauty, the _magic_ of the moment and the next day she found herself rummaging through her dad's record collection until she found the right albums. She'd listened to them so many times over the years that she'd worn them out and her dad had surprised her, replacing them with Coltrane's entire collection her senior year of high school as a Christmas present.

She misses those records, lost to the fire of the explosion in her apartment, something she's meant to remedy in the years since but always seems to forget in the midst of everything else going on. Hearing them now only intensifies that desire. The music is like coming home again, a comfort, evoking feelings in a way that only music can.

She startles slightly when she feels his hands on her shoulders, cool against her warm skin. He squeezes gently, kneads the muscles in her neck, and looks down at her in the chair. "You like Coltrane."

There's a hint of curiosity on his face but it's not really a question, more of an acknowledgment.

"Love Coltrane. How'd you know?"

"You were humming."

She nods, feels the smile stretch across her face. "I guess I was." She sighs contentedly, tilts her head at the steady pressure of his hands still working against her neck.

"And you look…_happy_."

She turns to look up at him through darkened lashes, surprised to find that there's emotion in his eyes. He's looking at her like she's just given him a present, his face so completely full of love and what looks a bit like awe that it's staggering; and she thinks to herself that she wouldn't mind spending the rest of her life putting that look there.

"I am happy, Castle." She reaches up, places her hand over his and brings it to her mouth, pressing a kiss there gently before letting go.

"Good." She hears him exhale, almost a nervous sound.

"Did you think I wouldn't be?"

"I…no, that's not-" He pauses, starts over. "Sometimes it still amazes me that I get to be with you, like this. It's just…more than I imagined."

She knows the feeling well, feels it when they leave the precinct together, share a cab to his place instead of parting ways; feels it when she wakes up in the circle of his arms, his lips against her skin; feels it when he's teasing her and when she's giving it right back because it's _intoxicating_ the way they connect.

"Yeah," she breathes. "It is. You don't have to worry though. I love everything about it here, Castle; the way it smells, the sound of the ocean and the crickets and the breeze through the dunes, the way you can see the stars." She pauses for a moment, standing from the chair so she can face him. "But most of all, I love sharing it with you."

His eyes light up with a passion that sends heat shooting through her veins. He pulls her toward him then. Tangles his fingers in her hair and answers her with the wide slant of his mouth, the steady sweep of his tongue against hers. She's dizzy with it, the love he's pouring into her, the sound of Coltrane and the surf crashing in the distance, the taste of mango and tequila on his lips. She's drunk on this feeling, never wants to let it go. So she wraps her arms around him, gives it all back as best she can, hopes he can tell how incredibly much she wants this too, is amazed by all of it.

"Wow," he says, finally breaking apart, resting his forehead against hers.

"Isn't that my line?"

He laughs, a breathless sound that makes her smile.

"Why, Katherine Beckett, are you actually admitting that I wow you?"

She pulls back, shrugs. "There may have been a few occasions when you've wowed me."

His eyes sparkle and he opens his mouth to speak but she stops him with a finger pressed to his lips. "Don't let it go to your head."

He entwines his arms around her waist then, tugs her closer. "Isn't that where you want it to go, Beckett?"

He completes the statement with a roll of his hips and she gasps at the firm press of his body, can't help but respond to the feel of him. His broad chest that frames her, his hands splayed across her lower back, teasing her skin through the thin fabric of the sundress she wears, and a haziness of arousal settles over her mind at the touch of his fingertips.

The light has almost completely faded now, replaced by flickers of green glowing across the yard, like sparks in the air. Fireflies. Her breath catches in her throat and once again she's reminded of magic. Reminded of the electricity between them and just how incredible this life they're building is, of all the things he gives her. She meets his eyes, sees the need there, desire for her burning brightly.

Somehow she summons the willpower to wiggle out of his grasp, grabs his hand instead, pulling him along behind her toward the door. "Come on, Castle. I'll show you _exactly _where I want it to go."


	4. How Far We've Come

**How Far We've Come**

She wakes in the middle of the night to the feel of his arm draped over her side, his hand rhythmically stroking across her stomach; soft, gentle swirls of his fingers against her skin, just enough to stir her from sleep. It's quiet, so quiet compared to the traffic in the city, the sirens, the calls she receives at all hours. His body is warm at her back, a perfect contrast to the coolness of the breeze that drifts through the room from the open window. She sinks deeper into the bed, pulls the sheet a little higher.

They celebrated one year today – well, technically yesterday, but she's not quite ready to let it all go. The memories that overwhelm her, the feeling of complete joy when he'd surprised her at work, whisked her away to the Hamptons with nothing but a picnic basket and a bottle of wine. _You're going to love what I've planned, Beckett._

Her heart was racing as they drove toward the coast, top down, the feel of the late spring sun shining across her face and the anticipation of what was waiting for her at the Hamptons' house. She'd caught the look of surprise on his face, the way it was quickly replaced by a smile that reached deep into his eyes, as she'd leaned over to turn the radio up. They'd sung along to a mixture of The Eagles, Mellencamp, and Petty as the city faded into the distance behind them, replaced by salty air and a humid breeze.

When they'd arrived, Castle had covered her eyes, walked her along the path to his backyard where there was a blanket spread across the grass, overlooking the Atlantic, surrounded by candles glowing in the fading light. They must have stayed out there for hours, laughing, talking, eventually winding up tangled together barefoot underneath the cloudless night sky.

It was simple. And it was perfect.

It's days like today that remind her of how much her life has changed. Of just how far she's come. A year ago she was lost, drowning, rain-soaked on a swing set not knowing whether he'd accept her forgiveness. Whether he'd accept her at all.

It's been one year since she'd forced herself to knock on his door, to not give up when it would have been so much easier to keep running and she's never been more proud of a decision. Never been more thankful for all that he's brought to her life. Being in a relationship with Castle hasn't been without its own challenges but somehow, _together_, they always make it work. And she's never been more deeply in love with someone than she is with him.

"You know what I love best?" His voice is low against her ear, interrupting her from her thoughts, and she shivers as his lips ghost over the side of her neck.

"Mmm?" She hums, her body lost in the sensation.

"I love the days we spend together." He slides his hand to her hip, fingers tracing her curves.

"I love building theory and watching you break down suspects in those sexy heels of yours." His hand moves higher, up her side and along the slope of her breast, agonizingly slow.

"I love cooking dinner with you, standing in line together at the coffee shop, bringing you breakfast in bed." He nudges a leg between hers, shifts her body closer, and her breath hitches.

"I love when you let me take you out on dates and the nights we spend on the couch wrapped up together in blankets." He trails a line of kisses across her bare shoulders, around the nape of her neck, sending goose bumps down her spine.

"And I love crawling into bed, feeling your body next to mine, falling asleep with you after a long day. But the best…" His voice trails off as he moves his mouth to caress the line of her jaw. "The best is waking up to you here. Just knowing that you stayed."

Her body is on fire, alive under his touch, her heart pounding so quickly she wonders if he can feel it too. She turns in his arms, emotion shining in her eyes as she meets his. She has no words, nothing to compare to his but everything about what he's said is just as true for her. She bites her bottom lip. "I'm not going anywhere, Rick."

"I know." He smiles at her reverently, no traces of doubt on his face.

She thinks of all the nights before him. Nights when she was alone, nights when there were others and she realizes that it's never felt this way before. It's always been stifling, verging on suffocating with her inherent need to escape. She never believed that it could be different. Had always assumed that she was just too independent, too damaged to let someone in completely.

But she was wrong. Being with Castle is more than anything she ever could have conceived. And instead of subconsciously drifting away, keeping one foot out the door, she only finds herself gravitating closer to him.

She doesn't fight it any longer, kisses him then, long and deep, savoring the feel of him so close, the peacefulness of the night, the safety of his arms around her. Speaking everything she can't say with her hands, the press of her body, and her mouth against his.

* * *

Later, when she's on the verge of sleep, somewhere just between consciousness and dreams, lulled by the sound of his even breathing, she whispers softly, "This is my favorite part."

* * *

_AN: Thanks for continuing to read these Hamptons oneshots! I hope no one is tired of them yet and I'd love to hear your thoughts._


	5. Reunion

AN: This chapter is based off a prompt sent to me by Caskettfan28, who wanted to see something written about a particular picture of Stana. The picture is at this link: stana-katic gallery/ displayimage. php?pid=73694&fullsize. =1 or you can see it on my tumblr at sunrisefromindigo dot tumblr dot com. I apologize for taking so long to write this and I hope it lives up to what you wanted!

* * *

**Reunion**

_"You came out of nowhere_  
_Stealing my heart and brain_  
_Flaming my every cell_  
_You make me feel myself" _

_- M83_

He wakes to a sound downstairs. The patio door shutting? He sits up in the bed and listens for movement, for any indication that someone else is there but is only met with silence. After a moment he believes he imagined it, maybe some lingering part of a rapidly fading dream that still tugs at the corners of his mind; one where Kate was here with him.

He runs a hand over his face, groans at the feel of three days without shaving. He's a mess.

He's been alone for the past week, banished to the Hamptons by his wife to finish the latest Nikki. _You'll never quit procrastinating until you have some incentive to get it done, Castle. _Of course, she was right (she usually is even if he doesn't like to admit it). He's put off writing for months, only jotting down ideas here and there, always finding something else to occupy his time. A number of things that really have been important. First, their honeymoon; then, a slew of extra grueling cases and a trip to visit Alexis, who was studying abroad. But once he resorted to "helping" with paperwork, Beckett put her foot down.

_Go finish the book, Rick, and I promise I'll come out there after you're done._

When he'd glanced up from the rubber band ball he'd been working on for the past forty-five minutes he was met with a look. One that told him it was really in his best interest to obey. But not _that _look (oh, he still got that one plenty too, the narrowing of her eyes and the set of her jaw that simultaneously intimidated and turned him on). No, this was a different look, somehow stern and soft all at once, with a hint of teasing in that barely there smile, as if she knew exactly what she was doing to him (she probably did). Because this was the one that usually meant if he complied with her, he'd be rewarded greatly later. The rewards were _always_ worth it.

He'd packed a bag for the Hamptons that afternoon.

Exactly six days have passed, he's been in a writing coma for the last four of them, and thankfully, is down to ironing out only a few minor details before he can send the manuscript off to Gina.

He's grown accustomed to times like these over the years. It's always been somewhat of a routine for him. Long wordless droughts followed by the eventual binge writing sessions, typically spurred by approaching deadlines, threatening phone calls from his ex, or, most commonly nowadays, certain cases that spark something in his mind. So it's not abnormal to find himself here, mind hazy and still churning with facts, pieces of plot, dialogue between Nikki and Rook, feeling like he's just woken up for the first time in days.

But somehow it's different.

He looks at the scattering of notes across the bed along the side that's become hers. Imagines she's there instead. He's spent so many hours memorizing the sight of her on mornings like these when they wake up together. The way the light fills the room with a glow, her bare skin golden against the contrast of the white sheets. The splay of her hair against the pillows, ruffling gently in the breeze from the windows she always insists on keeping open so they can hear the ocean and smell the salt air. The image infuses him with a longing he can't suppress, a need to get this book done as quickly as possible so he can call her, convince her that he's earned that visit. Which was her plan all along, he's sure.

This is the first book he'll have published since they've gotten married. Only the second since they've been _together_. And even though the words still matter, are still just as important to him - maybe even more so since he knows they're a depiction of _them_, an undercurrent to their own relationship and what he wanted for so long before it became theirs - _she_ is more important now. Their life is more important and he's found it harder to seclude himself in the words when he has the real thing right in front of him.

Until she rolls her eyes at him and tells him to quit being so melodramatic, that is.

But he's known it for years, ever since the night the words sprang to life in his mind again. Ever since the boredom and the restlessness were replaced with a renewed energy, an inspiration that he couldn't shake, he'll never get enough of Kate. It's only intensified since they've been together - since he's been lucky enough to call her his wife.

So he forces himself out of bed, the sound all but forgotten now. He's revived by the fact that he's almost done with the book and decides that he'll clean himself up, crank out the last of what he needs, and call Kate this afternoon.

* * *

He's making coffee when he hears something again. The creak of a step on the porch, the one board that he's been meaning to fix for the last eight months, every time he walks over it and cringes. He listens closely, puzzling for a moment, wondering if he's imagining things again when all he hears are the soft pops of coffee percolating in the machine. He shakes his head, runs a hand through his still damp hair, and attempts to rid himself of the last remaining cobwebs blurring his mind.

He stares out the window as the coffee brews, marvels at the swirl of white clouds, stark against a brilliant blue sky. The day has that crisp September look, where the sun still heats the air, leftovers of a long summer; but the sky is somehow clearer, sharp with the promise of cooler days to come, the humidity chased away by an early fall breeze. He truly loves this view - is suddenly reminded of the first day he stepped into the house. Remembers that it wasn't the grandeur, the massiveness of the property that won him over, but this room with its openness and its warmth. It was exactly what he needed at the time he was searching for a place in the Hamptons. He remembers holding Alexis, looking out those same windows, the sunlight streaming in from every direction it seemed. It rebuilt him then, filled his soul with hope again, the promise of a new life without Meredith - a fresh start.

And standing here today, he still feels it. There's something special about this place, a sort of peace it carries. It wraps around his heart and eases all the tension that builds up over time from the crazy pace at which they tend to live. And maybe that's why he's always written so well in this house. Because even when he's five days deep into a blur of words on his computer screen there are these moments that revive him, when he stops and soaks in the view. He's grateful that Kate made him come out here, so incredibly thankful that she knows what he needs better than even he does sometimes. His heart tugs again with the need to have her here to share this with.

He pours himself a cup of coffee and wanders out to the porch. He decided to forego his laptop this morning and opted for a notepad and a pen instead. It's another routine he's developed over time, sitting in this swing. He used to come out here and write while Alexis played in the backyard, would fill up entire notebooks until she'd eventually drag him down to the beach. _Let's build sandcastles, Daddy!_

He smiles at the memory, distracted from Nikki for a moment, scribbling down words that paint an entirely different scene playing in his mind. He loses himself to the sound of the ocean crashing in the background, the characters that spill from his pen, poetic and so unlike his usual writing.

"Look who decided to wake up."

His head snaps up abruptly at the teasing lilt of her voice. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of her standing before him in the yard. It's almost ethereal the way the morning light reflects against the golden waves in her hair, over her tall, lithe body. She's wearing some kind of sheer, lacey top he's never seen before that travels almost the entire length of her frame, down those long, tan legs to her feet, bare in the grass. She's absolutely gorgeous and all he can do is try to breathe through it.

He knows he's staring, is practically in awe but he can't help it. She's here, like something straight out of his dream, out of the scene he was writing, and the way she's looking back at him – as though she's radiating joy, some unearthly energy, has him up and on his feet before he knows it, crossing the distance between them.

"Kate, how? What are you doing here?"

She laughs at his stunned reaction, kisses him softly and palms his face, smooth again from shaving. "Glad to see you decided to join the land of the living again, writer man."

He chokes out a laugh. "Just how long _have_ you been here?"

"An hour or so. I was going to wake you but you looked so out of it I decided to let you rest while I took a walk on the beach."

"Oh…I was going to call you later…I'm all but done…I'm so glad you're here." The words come out in a rush, excitement and happiness bubbling up inside of him and he can see the amusement on her face. But for once she's not making fun of him, just staring back with a smile of her own, like she's here for a reason. Some mysterious secret behind her eyes.

But before he can dissect anything she simply tugs on his hand, leads him back to porch swing. She loves it here in the mornings too. Will sometimes claim the spot outside before he wakes, wait for him with two cups of coffee and move to the side to let him take his place. He loves the way she props herself against his shoulder, legs sideways across the swing, feet dangling off the end as she reads and he writes. It's always made him feel like home.

Today she curls up at his side, leans into him as he picks up the notebook he'd been writing in.

"What are you working on? That doesn't look like the book." She tilts her head to look up at him, curiosity in her eyes.

He falters for a moment, suddenly unsure what her reaction will be to a scene that's them. Undisguised from Nikki and Rook and actually _them_.

"Castle, what is this?" she asks again when he doesn't respond, peers over his shoulder to take another look.

He chews his lip, a nervous habit he's picked up from her over the years and finally concedes defeat, hands over the notepad, allowing her to read while he tries to mentally prepare himself for whatever her reaction may be. "Umm, just promise you won't get upset."

Her eyes pour over the words as he waits, practically holding his breath. "Castle, is this…is this _poetry_?"

He nods slightly as she begins to read his words aloud, back to him, wonder in her tone.

"_She stands in sunlight_

_Luminescent_

_The definition of my dreams_

_And the promise of future, hope, always _

_There are no words_

_Nothing can capture the beauty of this moment_

_The sound of laughter as she twirls, grasps at her mother's hand_

_Laughter pealing from her tiny mouth, dark eyes taking in the whirl of color spinning around her_

_I stand watching, adoring, loving from a distance until she calls my name_

_And then I follow_

_Will forever follow them both, wherever they lead."_

Her voice trails off as she finishes, her eyes shining as they meet his again. "Is this...about us?"

He takes a deep breath, pauses for a moment to steady his own voice. "I was just sitting here, remembering Alexis being young, missing you and I started writing. I know we've been trying for a couple months and it hasn't worked out yet. I don't want to upset you, Kate…if it's too much…"

She cuts him off with the crash of her lips against his, the swirl of her tongue in his mouth, deep and unguarded emotion fueling the kiss until they separate, both breathless and dizzy with it.

"What if I told you it's not too much?" she asks quietly. She pauses, gathering herself, her voice a little stronger as she speaks again. "What if I told you it's why I came here early?"

"What?" The word tumbles from his lips, confusion clouding his mind as his brain tries frantically to catch up with what she's saying and his heart still pounds in his chest.

A smile slowly blossoms across her face, spreads wide and lights up her eyes as she bites her bottom lip.

"What are you saying, Kate?" He probes again, desperate to not jump to any conclusions for once. Because this…this is too important, too big to make a mistake.

"We're going to have to a baby."

His heart stops for a second as she speaks the words, an incomprehensible joy filling him from the inside out. He takes a moment just to soak it in, to wrap his mind around the news and revel in it.

"You're pregnant?"

She laughs, letting out a startled "oof" as he suddenly picks her up and hauls her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. "That's usually the implication when someone says, 'we're having a baby,'" she teases, eyes sparkling as she looks at him.

"We're having a baby." He repeats the words softly against her hair, still amazed, holding her as close as he can as the swing rocks back and forth, carried by their weight and the morning breeze.

She sighs contentedly, relaxing deeper into his embrace as she laces their fingers together. There's nowhere else he'd rather be to share this moment. Another chapter in their lives and a new beginning.

* * *

_As always, would love to hear what you think._


	6. Let the Stars Watch

_AN: This chapter is AU and set shortly after Cuffed in season 4. _

* * *

**Let the Stars Watch**

"Why are _you_ the prettier one?"

"Seriously, bro? You really wanna go there?"

"I'm just sayin', she was looking at _me_ when she said it!"

"And she was pointing her _gun_ at me, so obviously..."

"Can I get you another drink, Detective?" She startles as his words ghost low and warm across her ear. She fights the urge to shut her eyes at the feel of him so close behind her and forces herself to take a deep breath before she turns. He's grinning as he looks over her shoulder toward the two detectives, wholly amused at the scene and unaware of his effect on her.

She pauses for a moment, watching him and thinking about how she'd almost said no when he asked her and the boys to come up to the Hamptons for the weekend. The response would have been automatic, a callback to the very first time he posed the question to her. There were a hundred reasons to decline; legitimate reasons even, paperwork, the stress of the fall and the anxiety attacks she's only just begun to learn how to cope with. But when she'd raised her head to meet his eyes, all the excuses died on the tip of her tongue. His face was serious, his expression open but insistent. It had been like that a lot lately. _You owe me about a hundred coffees_, had echoed through her mind. And it was true. She owed him _a lot__more_ than caffeine and sugar. So here they were, standing closer than necessary in the cozy warmth of Castle's Hamptons' house, watching the two detectives battle it out over which of them was "prettier" to a crazy tiger lady.

"I might need more than one drink if this escalates any further."

He laughs at that, the reverberation of it sending a chill through her. When did he get so close again? "You've got to admit it's an interesting argument."

"Is it now?" She raises an eyebrow at him.

"Well you see, on the one hand Esposito has those big, strong arms. Not to mention he's got that whole sexy, Latino vibe thing going for him. But then on the other hand, Ryan's got the blue eyes and sweater vests...gives him sort of an innocent, good cop look. Women love the sweater vests." He emphasizes the last statement and gives her a knowing look.

"Don't tell me you have a secret sweater vest fetish I'm unaware of…"

"Hey, I grew up in boarding school. We had to wear uniforms, even to mixers with the girls' school. Sometimes it had its perks." He shrugs and returns his focus to the detectives, still evaluating. She tries not to laugh as he pauses and rubs a hand over his chin. "Hmm, maybe Ryan _is_objectively prettier."

"Jealous of his baby blues, Castle?"

"What?! No!" He scoffs and turns back toward her. "I have my own, thank you very much. Besides, if I were included in this debate, clearly they'd have no chance."

She barks out a laugh. "Too bad you don't get points for modesty."

"C'mon, Beckett, they can't compete with ruggedly handsome, not to mention my obvious charm and skill with words." He waggles his eyebrows at her.

She shakes her head, ready to respond when Ryan practically shouts, "She said she wasn't choosing!"

She sees Jenny place a hand on Ryan's arm and whisper something that must be consoling while Espo crosses his arms and looks on smugly.

"So, Detective, about that drink..." Castle nudges her and she can feel the warmth of his body, still entirely too close.

She swallows, ignores the way her pulse jumps a little. "Better make it strong."

* * *

While Castle heads to the kitchen, she and Jenny manage to navigate the conversation in a better direction. They're all laughing as Kate describes how Castle decided feeding the tiger beef jerky would be enough to keep the animal from ripping their faces off.

"Seriously?" Jenny looks at her with widened eyes.

Kate nods. "Seriously."

"That's Castle." Ryan shakes his head, laughing as his wife's expression portrays a mixture of amusement and horror.

"I still don't know how you two didn't kill _each other_ being handcuffed for that long," Esposito states, smirking.

"It was tempting," Kate says.

"I'll have you all know that it was _my_ ingenious plan that saved us from tiger kibble in the end." Castle strides through the doorway, two cocktails in hand. "Besides, we made a good team in there. Didn't we, Beckett?"

He leans down to hand her one of the drinks, fingers brushing over hers as she takes the glass. The contact sparks through her and their eyes lock for a moment. Her face flushes involuntarily and she almost forgets that there's a question lingering between them.

She forces herself to look away even though she can still feel his gaze burning into her. She can see Esposito ribbing Ryan out of the corner of her eye as Jenny looks on curiously. She coughs, tries to ignore them. "Yeah, well, let's just say I have no desire to visit the zoo anytime soon."

She takes a long draw of her drink as Castle settles beside her on the oversized couch. The whiskey trails a heated path down her throat and she lets it wash over her, settle her nerves a bit. Esposito makes a joke about Gates' reaction to the case and the conversation shifts to safer topics.

As the night progresses, she can't help but feel inordinately grateful for this weekend away. As much as she hates to admit it, she needed this. All of them did. There's been a lingering seriousness since she's returned to duty. Between the effects of her shooting, the tense cases, and the loss of their captain, even Castle seems to be quieter these days, more cautious with his words.

She hears the rest of the group laughing again and can't help but smile. She really has missed this. She glances over at Castle, sees the way the smile lights up his entire face and something tugs inside her. She'd never have believed it years ago when he showed up at the precinct and forced himself into their lives but she can't imagine a life without him now. He always finds a way to make things better. Not just for her, but in the way he cares about them all, treats them like family. And tonight, away from work and the city, everything almost feels normal again.

The only problem is that normal is accompanied by an awareness she remembers all too well. An awareness that has her body buzzing at Castle's proximity. There's an undeniable warmth that spreads deep inside her. It's written in the occasional bumping of his leg against hers, his arm slung close to her shoulder along the back of the couch; the way their bodies seem to angle toward one another and their eyes always linger just a moment too long when engaged in discussion. She's cognizant of every movement, every brief touch, and by the time it's late and everyone is making their way to bed, she's so far from sleep it's laughable.

She follows the group upstairs, only half-listening as Castle shows them to their rooms and points out where the extra towels are kept in case anyone decides to shower.

Her eyes are drawn to the photos that line the walls, a collection of family moments that feature mostly Alexis at various ages and Martha in different productions. She stops at a picture of Castle and Alexis building a sandcastle. Alexis is beaming at her dad while he pours water into the moat. It's a simple moment but something about it touches her; the clear adoration on Alexis's face, the way the two of them must have spent hours working on something that elaborate. It reminds her of vacations with her own parents, the way they were always so busy but as soon as they'd load up in the car, the work was put away and forgotten for the week.

It's funny, she's not sure what she expected to find here but it wasn't this. As sprawling and grand as Castle's Hamptons' home is, it's just that…a _home._ She can't deny there's a part of her that always assumed he used this place more for impressing women than anything else. But then again, that Castle is long gone, only a distant memory replaced by the man who brings her coffee every day, who has stood with her when there was no one else, the one who has saved her life in more ways that one. The man that _loves_ her.

For the millionth time since that day in the cemetery, she wishes more than anything that she could just give in to the feelings, say the words back to him and expel the secrets that burn inside her. She longs to be everything he deserves.

"Sometimes I wish she was still that age." Once again, Castle's voice interrupts her thoughts and she looks up to find that they're alone in the hallway.

He's looking at the picture of the sandcastle too and she can't help but smile at the wistful look on his face. "How old was she there?"

"She was three that summer. That picture was taken a few weeks after I'd bought the house. I'd just gotten full custody and I decided to bring Alexis here for the summer. She was probably too young to really understand what was going on but I guess I thought that it'd be better if we got away for a while, spent time somewhere fun where it wasn't as noticeable that Meredith wasn't around."

"Was it hard on her?"

"You know, the funny thing is, Meredith was already in and out of our lives so much by that point, I don't even think Alexis noticed all that much. I just remember being so relieved to have made it to age three. Alexis was always a good kid but the twos are called terrible for a reason and going through them at the same time as a divorce wasn't exactly easy. Things between Meredith and I stayed mostly amicable but she wasn't around much. I was young and completely inexperienced, scared of every bump and bruise. And, oh my god, Kate, when she cried, I nearly lost it every time." He flashes her a self-deprecating smile and turns back to the picture.

"That summer was special though. It was the first time I'd really been able to relax in months, to just enjoy spending time with Alexis. We spent pretty much every day on the beach and I'd cook us dinners at night and tell her stories on the back porch while she watched the fireflies. She was in love with those fireflies."

She can't help but envision it all. A tan, younger version of Castle, playing with his daughter, cooking in the house's massive kitchen; the joy it must have brought him to watch his daughter light up with excitement over the little green glowing bugs. "It sounds amazing. This place is really spectacular, Castle."

He gives her a smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and her knees a little weak. "I'm really glad you came this weekend." He pauses and she can almost see the wheels turning in his head before he asks, "So, just how tired are you, Beckett?"

It's late. She really _should_ go to bed. "Not very, why?"

"May I show you something? You still haven't seen the best part of the place."

In the dim light of the hallway she can see the hopeful look in his eyes. It sets her heart racing all over again.

"Okay."

* * *

Castle is quiet as he leads her down the hall, careful not to wake the others. There's an air of electricity surrounding them as they make their way through the house and Castle keeps flashing her these mischievous little grins that she rolls her eyes at; yet, returns all the same. She really could laugh because the entire situation is kind of ridiculous and makes her feel like she's sixteen again, sneaking out to see a boy. It's thrilling and scary all at once because this isn't just a boy, this is _Castle_, and they're always just one step away from either diving in or completely imploding.

He holds the door open for her as they step onto the wrap around porch and then stops for a moment to key something into his security system. She watches as tiny lights come to life, illuminating a path that curves and winds its way through the grass. The backyard is an impressive sight within itself; a lush, rolling green that stretches all the way down to the ocean and over to what she assumes is the pool house that Castle mentioned when they'd arrived.

"I was planning on giving everyone a tour tomorrow morning since it was sort of late when we got here; but it really is beautiful at night. I thought you might like to see."

She's so swept up in the view that by the time she looks over at him to respond his entire demeanor has changed. He's almost hesitant; as though he's suddenly worried she'll change her mind now that they're outside, away from the safety of walls and closed doors and other people. Gone is the cocky and confident Castle she's known for years, his playfulness held securely in check now. And she hates that she's done this to him, that because of her they're always stuck tiptoeing around the edges of everything.

So she does the best she can to will her own nerves away. She smiles, lets him see it in her eyes and nudges his shoulder with her own. "Lead the way, Castle."

Just like that some of the worry etched into his features eases. The corners of his mouth turn upward, sparks of excitement flickering back across his face as he holds out his arm for her to take.

He tells her the history of the place as he guides her along the path, stopping every now and then to gesture or point something out. The wind is cool against her cheeks, a damp saltiness that settles into her skin and ruffles her hair. She shivers involuntarily, pulls her sweater a little tighter around her body but it's invigorating, a perfect accompaniment to the slightest buzz of whiskey still flowing through her veins and the warmth of his body brushing up against hers with every step.

"Are you cold?"

"A little but it's kind of nice." She shrugs, lets go of his arm a little reluctantly as they reach the wooden gate to the pool. He steps up to unlock it and ushers her through.

"If you wait for a second, I'll go grab us some blankets from the pool house."

"Blankets for what exactly?" She raises her eyebrows and his eyes widen for a moment before he recovers and shakes his head at her.

"All part of the experience, _Detective_." He winks and glides by the columns and through the door to the pool house before she can object.

She looks around while she waits. White terraces line the pool all along one side and there are plants by each column, wrapped with twinkling lights that reflect and sparkle against the water. Wisps of steam rise from the pool and she bends down, dips her hand in to test the temperature. It's almost hot in comparison to the air and for a moment her mind plays with the idea of swimming here with Castle, the heat against her skin contrasting with the cool night air, memories of his suggestion of skinny dipping...

The pool house door shuts behind her and she straightens immediately, shrugging off the fantasy before it gets completely out of hand.

He holds out a blanket to her and as she takes it his hand brushes over hers. For the hundredth time that night she finds her pulse jumping without her permission. Their eyes hold for a second and it's all she can do to drag them away from his.

"So...um, where exactly is this view I can't miss out on?" She manages to choke out the words.

"Right, yeah, sorry," His voice is abnormally low and she sneaks a glance at him again, notices that he seems to be struggling just the same. He clears his throat and looks away. "This way."

He leads her beside the pool, underneath the terraces, and out another gate until they reach a small cluster of trees. He gestures toward them and as they approach she realizes they hide the frame of another terrace, this one wide open to the sky, where two hammock chairs hang suspended underneath one of the wooden planks.

She hadn't paid any attention before, but the house, the pool, all of the property apparently sits elevated on a small hill, placing them above sea level. The effect is an almost panoramic view of the ocean and she finds herself practically gaping as she absorbs it all.

Castle sits down in one of the swinging chairs and turns to watch her reaction. "Amazing isn't it?"

"It's gorgeous," she breathes.

"Sit with me for a little while?"

She looks at him and nods, takes a seat in the second hammock, wrapping the blanket around her as she settles in.

They sit together quietly for a while. It's uncharacteristic of him to be so silent but she thinks he senses the magic here too and doesn't want to risk spoiling it. It's breathtaking in a way that the city can't provide. Here, there is a sky full of stars she can actually see. There's the sound of the waves crashing, the smell of fall and salt air and fireplaces burning. There's a chill in the breeze off the ocean and the feel of sand underneath her feet. Here, there's an openness, a freedom; the possibilities laid out before her as infinite as the blue that stretches beyond the horizon.

The combination of it all assaults her senses. It's overwhelming, almost surreal. She finds herself wishing she could exist in this moment forever because for the first time since before she lay dying in his arms, she feels _alive_.

She takes advantage of the feeling before she can stop herself she reaches out and takes his hand. "Thank you for this." _For everything_.

He laces their fingers and doesn't let go, slides his thumb along her skin, his touch a liquid fire in her veins. "You know you're welcome here anytime, Kate."

She looks down at their joined hands and then back up to meet his gaze. She can tell he wants to say more, can read the subtext that accompanies his words, the look in his eyes that speaks of _always_. He'd give her the world if only she'd let him. And suddenly, she knows that this is another crossroad, an opportunity she's been given to make it right, to take a chance on the one person who's never given up on her.

So she pushes away everything that causes her to hesitate, focuses on nothing but the feel of his hand in hers, the blue of his eyes shining at her in the moonlight, and finally _moves_.

"Beckett, what are you—"

She silences him with the gentle press of her finger against his mouth. She's standing in front of him now, still grasping one of his hands when she takes a deep breath and says softly, "Castle, I'm in love with you."

His eyes go wide. He opens his mouth to speak and shuts it again, frozen as if he can't believe the reality of what just happened. She bites her bottom lip; unsure of what to do now that the words are finally out there, scared for a moment that maybe he's changed his mind. And then, before she can back away he's pulling her down into his lap, wrapping her up in his arms, and kissing her with a force that takes her breath away.

She catches up quickly, slides her tongue into his mouth, unable to keep herself from moaning at the feel of his hands that have tangled in her hair and the hard press of his body against hers. It's everything that she remembers from that night in the alley and somehow more. Because she knows now what it's like to almost die, to lie there cradled beneath him and only have one regret, only one thought in her mind.

She sinks into him as he envelops them both in the blanket, slips her hands underneath his shirt, anything she can do to get closer. Her kiss is both an apology and a promise as her fingers dance across his skin, painting silent infinities with every touch.

When they finally break apart, he looks at her, stunned. "I'm not dreaming right? That really just happened?"

She laughs a little breathlessly, nods at him. "Definitely not a dream."

"Are you sure? Cause I've had a lot of dreams like this. Of course, in those dreams you're also usually nak—ouch, Beckett, that hurt!"

She punches his arm and rolls her eyes, but struggles to keep the smile off her face. "Do I usually smack you in those dreams too?"

"Sometimes…" He grins at her and she groans, dropping her face into her hands.

"Hey," he murmurs as he palms her cheek, angles her face back up to his. She watches as he grows serious again, sucks in a breath as his fingers trace the line of her jaw and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love you too."

* * *

The sun is coming up, streaming through the open curtains of her bedroom when she finally sneaks back in. She leans back against the door as it shuts, rests her head on the cool wood, and presses a hand to her lips. She can still feel the ghost of his mouth, his hands, his body moving against hers. Just the thought of it has her breathless again and she can't contain the smile that spreads wide across her face. She's not sure why they're bothering to pretend like nothing has happened because she knows as soon as they're together again it'll be written all over their faces. But somehow, standing here in the glow of the sunrise, she finds she doesn't mind at all.

* * *

_AN: Thanks for reading and as always, I truly appreciate any feedback. _


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